Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) - Quotes

Bean: [hangs up his telephone and looks at Boggis and Bunce] They took everything? Let me call you back, Petey.

Mr. Fox: [yells] YOU SCARED THE CUSS OUT OF US!

Badger: [growls furiously; starts yelling; everyone stares in fazement, then he continues] A lot of good animals are PROBABLY GONNA DIE BECAUSE OF YOU! We've been digging in circles for three days. HALF the woods have been obliterated, NOBODY can get out. Right now, my wife's huddled at the bottom of the flint-mine with NO food, NO water and 27 STARVING animal brats.

Phil: I just want to see a little...sunshine.

Mr. Fox: But you're nocturnal, Phil. Your eyes barely even open on a good day.

Phil: I'm sick of your double talk! We have rights!

Beaver's Son: We don't like you, and we hate your dad. Now grab some of that mud, chew it in your mouth and swallow it.

Ash: I'm not gonna eat mud!

Beaver's Son: [picks up a large glob of mud and shoves it in Ash's face. Ash makes a gagging sound but does not react further] Cuss yeah, you are!

Kristofferson: [takes off his shoes] Don't do that.

Beaver's Son: Why'd you take your shoes off?

Kristofferson: [pushes Ash away; proceeds to take Beaver's son out with some precision karate moves, ending with a throwdown on the ground. Beaver's son then gets up and walks away crying] So I don't break your nose when I kick it.

Ash: I can fight my own fights.

Kristofferson: [turns to Ash] No, you can't.

Felicity: I'm going to lose my temper now.

Mr. Fox: When?

Felicity: Right now.

Mr. Fox: [Felicity slashes at his face with her claws, Mr. Fox shouts and groans in pain] Well, when...?

Felicity: [voice breaking] Twelve fox years ago, you made a promise to me, while we we're caged inside that fox trap. That if we survived, you would never steal another chicken, turkey, goose, duck, or a squab, whatever they are, and I believed you. Why? Why did you lie to me?

Mr. Fox: Because I'm a wild animal.

Felicity: You are also a husband, and a father.

Mr. Fox: I'm trying to tell you the truth about myself.

Felicity: I don't care about the truth about yourself. This story is too... predictable.

Mr. Fox: Predictable? Really? What happens in the end?

Felicity: [leaves] In the end, we all die...unless you change.

Mr. Fox: Why the cuss didn't I listen to my lawyer? At this point we'll be lucky if we can flip this tree for half of what we've already sunk into it. I won't be able to sleep on my back for six weeks, and my stomach I feel congested. Why the cuss didn't I listen to my lawyer?

Felicity: Because you don't listen to anybody.

Mr. Fox: What was that?

Felicity: What? I said--

Mr. Fox: Wake up, everybody, they're digging us out!

Felicity: They'll kill the children!

Mr. Fox: Over my dead body, they will!

Felicity: That's what I'm saying! You'd be dead too in that scenario!

Mr. Fox: Well, I'm arguing against thatǃ

Felicity: What are you talking about?

Mr. Fox: WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?ǃ

Kylie: [[Rebel Without a Cause|You say one thing, she says another, and it all changes back againǃ] STOP, STOP, STOPǃ! ]

Ash: [after Mr. Fox has just lost his tail in the shooting] It'll-- It'll grow back, won't it?

Kylie: Tails don't grow back.

Ash: Tails don't grow back?

Kylie: Uh-uh. Except for lizards.

Mr. Fox: Tails don't grow back. I'm gonna be tail-less for the rest of my life.

Ash: Well, anyway, it's not half as bad as double pneumonia, right? I mean, his dad's got one foot in the grave and three feet on a banana peel. That's a lot worse than just...

Kristofferson: [ricochets an acorn around the room, which lands in the teacup he is holding. The others stare with surprised yet speechless looks; exits and shuts the door offscreen] Excuse me, everyone. I'm gonna go meditate for half an hour.

Felicity: [to Ash, sternly] You have got twenty-nine minutes to come up with a proper apology.

Ash: [snaps, gestures wildly; then stomps away in regret and shuts door upon exit] Me?! Me, have an apology?! He gets a bandit hat?! He just got here, and he gets a bandit hat?! Where's my bandit hat?! Why didn't I get shot at?! It's because, you... you... YOU THINK I'M NO GOOD AT ANYTHING!!! Well, maybe you're right. Thanks.

Kylie: [sighs; to Mr. Fox] Told ya not to bring him.

Felicity: Another book party?

Mr. Fox: [surprised; grins sheepishly] Oh! I didn't see you sitting in the dark over there. Yeah! No actually, there's a fire. I just got the call. They said maybe it's arson. I've got to interview the marshal and see if it's...

Felicity: [turns on the light] Kylie, is he telling the truth?

Kylie: [turns to Mr. Fox] I... I don't want to be put into the middle of this.

Mr. Fox: Thanks, Kylie.

Felicity: [notices something off to her right, points to Kristofferson wearing his bandit hat] Why is he wearing that bandit hat?

Mr. Fox: [to Kristofferson] His ears were cold. He's not with us. Go back to bed.

Felicity: [the scene zooms in to an extreme close-up of her] If what I think is happening is happening... ...it better not be.

Bean: Ah, so good of you to come! I'm happy to see you! You both looking splendid! How ya been, Walter? In good health, I trust.

Boggis: Uh, uh, uh...

Bean: Nathan, all is well?

Bunce: Uh...

Bean: Wonderful! Any fox problems?

Boggis: Are you joking?!

Bunce: It's horrible!

Boggis: We're miserable!

Bunce: He's laughing at us!

Boggis: It's humiliating!

Bunce: We're furious!

Boggis: I don't even want to talk about it.

Bean: [drinks a glass of cider] Perhaps we ought to kill him.

Boggis: Well, that seems rather obvious.

Bunce: He's too sneaky!

Bean: [shoots every light around in one fluid movement] Ah, yes. He's very clever, isn't he? Might be a bit difficult, I suppose. But I already figured out where this fox lives. So tomorrow night, we'll camp in the bushes, wait for him to come out of the hole in the tree, and shoot the cuss to smithereens. How does that grab you, fellas?

Boggis: Yeah, don't see why not.

Mr. Fox: I spotted a couple of broken burglar bars underneath the back door to Bean's secret cider cellar.

Kylie: We're breaking into Bean's house?

Mr. Fox: Cellar.

Kylie: Where he lives?

Mr. Fox: Where he keeps the cider.

Ash: [appears behind them] Below where he lives.

Mr. Fox: Where'd you come from? You go back to the tree and do your homework.

Ash: I wanna help you steal some cider.

Mr. Fox: We're going to a book party, and you keep your mouth shut about any cider because no one ever said that. Now get out of here!

Ash: But-- Uh..

Mr. Fox: [Ash scowls, twitches his ear and spits and Mr. Fox points at the tree; Ash growls with rage and storms back to the tree] But Nothing! You're gonna get me in a lot of trouble! Besides, you're too little and uncoordinated. One, two, three! Where the cuss does that kid get off? Can you believe that? How did he get tipped off?

Coach Skip: Let's see some hustle!

Kristofferson: Coach, we don't have whack-bat where I'm from. What are the rules?

Coach Skip: There's no whack-bat on the other side of the river?

Kristofferson: No, we mostly just, uh, run grass sprints or play acorns.

Coach Skip: Huh. Well, it's real simple. Basically, there's three grabbers, three taggers, five twig runners, and the player at whack-bat. Center tagger lights a pine cone, chucks it over the basket, and the whack-batter tries to hit the cedar stick off the cross rock. Then the twig runners dash back and forth until the pine cone burns out and the umpire calls "hotbox". Finally at the end, you count up however many score-downs it adds up to and divide that by nine.

Kristofferson: Got it.

Coach Skip: Go in for Ash. Substitution! Ash, come out. You need a breather.

Ash: What, what? Come out? What? I still feel good, Coach. Let me finish this eighth.

Coach Skip: No, no. Come on. Step out. Step out. Let's go.

Ash: Am I getting better, Coach?

Coach Skip: Well, you're sure as cuss not getting any worse.

Ash: Really? You mean you I can end up being as good as my dad if I keep practicing?

Coach Skip: [points to the scoreboard showing Mr. Fox's name as Most Valuable Player of the year for four years] Your dad? Your dad was probably the best whack-bat player we ever had in this school. No, you don't wanna have to compare yourself to that.

Ash: No, but I think I have some of the same raw natural talent, don't you?

Coach Skip: You're improving. Let's put it like that.

Mr. Fox: I used to do this professionally, and I was very successful at it. I had to get out of it for personal reasons, but I've decided to secretly do one last big job on the sly. I'm bringing you in as my secretary and personal assistant.

Kylie: Okay!

Mr. Fox: This is actually kind of a big deal, so don't just say, "Okay!".

Kylie: Okay. Well, thank you.

Mr. Fox: I'm going to tape this for my records, so don't make a lot of sounds. Meaning, stop rocking.

Mr. Fox: Master plan, phase one, side "A". We'll start with Boggis's chicken house number one. His only security is a few old hunting beagles and a low stone wall. Now, a word about beagles. Never look a beagle directly in the eye. And if--

Kylie: Why not? Beagles aren't so tough.

Mr. Fox: Yeah? Well, first of all, one of these beagles has chronic rabies, which he's on medication for, and if you get bit by him, you have to get shots in your stomach for six months, and second-- Listen, I'm not going to justify this. You just pay attention and stop interrupting me. I'm taping this. I pick some blueberries and lace each one with ten milligrams of high potency sleeping powder, enough to tranquilize a gorilla.

Kylie: How do we make them eat it?

Mr. Fox: [Kylie looks zoned out] Beagles love blueberries. Remember, they aren't very smart, but they're incredibly paranoid, so always kill a chicken in one bite. One bite. Get it? Are you listening to me? I look into your eyes, and I can't tell whether you're getting anything I'm saying.

Kristofferson: Do you mind if I slide my bedroll slightly out from under the train set? It's hard to sleep in that corkscrew position.

Ash: [gets up and notices Kristofferson; goes back to reading his book] There's a lot of attitudes going on around here. Don't let me get one.

Kristofferson: No, it's only just that my spinal-cord...

Ash: [gets up again; goes back to reading his book again] Sleep, wherever you want, man. Here, take my bed. I'll just, uh...I'll crawl under the bookcase. Who cares if I get splinters in my ears?

Kristofferson: Never mind...

Ash: [gets up one last time, irritated; he glares at Kristofferson, turns off the light, then continues reading once more with the nightlight on] Oh, are you gonna pout about it? Because I've had it up to HERE with the "sad houseguest" routine!

Kristofferson: [pulls out the mat under Ash's train set, lays down under the table and eventually starts crying. Ash notices this as he shines his flashlight on Kristofferson, then climbs down, turns the train set on with music playing, then Kristofferson notices this and they both watch the train go around and around the track] Good night.

Mr. Fox: [sighs] Who am I, Kylie?

Kylie: Who how? What now?

Mr. Fox: Why a fox? Why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? I'm saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? Who am I? And how can a fox ever be happy without, you'll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?

Kylie: I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds illegal.

Mr. Fox: [Kylie puts the bandit hat on; Kylie takes it off] Here, put this bandit hat on. Maybe you're a medium. Take it off for a minute. And don't wear it around the house. And so it begins.

Badger: Don't buy this tree, Foxy. You're borrowing at nine-and-a-half with no fixed rate, plus moving into the most dangerous neighborhood in the country for someone of your type of species.

Mr. Fox: You're exaggerating, Badger.

Badger: [scoffs] I'm sugar-coating it, man. This is Boggis, Bunce, and Bean; three of the meanest, nastiest, UGLIEST farmers in the history of this valley.

Mr. Fox: Really? Tell me about them.

Badger: [sighs; turns on the radio] All right. Walt Boggis is a chicken farmer, probably the most successful in the world. He weighs the same as a young rhinoceros. He eats three chickens every day for breakfast, lunch, supper, and dessert. That's twelve in total per diem. Nate Bunce is a duck and goose farmer. He's approximately the size of a pot-bellied dwarf, and his chin would be underwater in the shallow end of any swimming pool on the planet. His food is homemade doughnuts with smashed-up goose livers injected into them. Frank Bean is a turkey and apple farmer. He invented his own species of each. He lives on a liquid diet of strong alcoholic cider, which he makes from his apples. He's as skinny as a pencil, as smart as a whip, and possibly the scariest man currently living. The local human children sing a kind of... eerie little rhyme about him. Here, listen to this.

Ensemble: [singing] ♪ Boggis, Bunce, and Bean. One fat, one short, one lean. Those horrible crooks, so different in looks, were nonetheless equally mean. ♪

Badger: [turns off the radio] In summation, I think you just gotta not do it, man. That's all.

Mr. Fox: I understand what you're saying, and your comments are valuable, but I'm gonna ignore your advice.

Badger: The cuss you are.

Mr. Fox: The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?

Badger: No, you cussing with me?

Mr. Fox: Don't cuss and point at me!

Badger: If you're gonna cuss with somebody, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!

Mr. Fox: [Both start snarling at each other. Linda notices this, then she pushes the typewriter and they finally settle down] You're not gonna cuss with me! Just buy the tree.

Badger: Okay.

Franklin Bean: [to his wife while holding Kristofferson by his tail] Wrap this wet, little mutt in a newspaper, and put him in a box with some holes punched in the top.

Franklin Bean: [shocked; hangs up] They took everything? Let me call you back, Petey.

Franklin Bean: [flicks away his cigar and grimly storms off] That's just weak songwriting. You wrote a bad song, Petey!

Franklin Bean: [after the shooting, as he picks up and eyes Mr. Fox's tail] We got the tail, but we missed the fox.

Franklin Bean: [shoots every light around in one fluid movement] Ah, yes. He's very clever, isn't he? Might be a bit difficult, I suppose. But I already figured out where this fox lives. And tomorrow night, we’re gonna camp in the bushes, wait for him to come out of the hole in this tree, and shoot the cuss to smithereens. How does that grab you, fellas?

Felicity Fox: Am I being flirted with by a psychotic rat?

Felicity Fox: We're all different... Him, especially. But there's something kind of fantastic about that, isn't there?

Felicity Fox: [looks back at Mr. Fox and Kylie, suspiciously; pauses, then the scene zooms in on her] If what I think is happening is happening... ...it better not be.

Mr. Fox: [In the supermarket, offering a juice-box toast] They say all foxes are slightly allergic to linoleum, but it's cool to the paw - try it. They say my tail needs to be dry cleaned twice a month, but now it's fully detachable - see? They say our tree may never grow back, but one day, something will. Yes, these crackles are made of synthetic goose and these giblets come from artificial squab and even these apples look fake - but at least they've got stars on them. I guess my point is, we'll eat tonight, and we'll eat together. And even in this not particularly flattering light, you are without a doubt the five and a half most wonderful wild animals I've ever met in my life. So let's raise our boxes - to our survival.

Mr. Fox: HOLY SWEARING CUSS!

Mr. Fox: [To Frank Bean, as he prepares for the final battle] Your tractors uprooted my tree. Your posse hunted my family. Your gunmen kidnapped my nephew. Your rat insulted my wife... and YOU shot off my tail! I'm not leaving here without that necktie!

Mr. Fox: [in his letter to the farmers] Dear Farmers Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, I have no alternative but to agree to your terms. Move the station wagon and open the manhole cover below the foot of the drainpipe next to the cobbler shop, and meet me there today at 10 AM sharp. I will hand myself over to you in exchange for the boy's safe return. Cordially, Mr. Fox".

Mr. Fox: My suicide mission has been canceled. We're replacing it with a go-for-broke rescue mission.

Mr. Fox: Redemption? Sure. But in the end, he's just another dead rat in a garbage pail behind a Chinese restaurant.

Mr. Fox: I guess we do have these three ugly farmers to thank for one thing: reminding us to be thankful and aware of each other. I'm gonna say it again: aware.

Mr. Fox: Apple juice? We didn't come here for apple juice. This is some of the strongest, finest alcoholic cider money can buy or that can even be stolen. It burns in your throat, boils in your stomach, and tastes almost exactly like pure, melted gold.

Mr. Fox: What the cuss?! Where'd this giant fence come from?! We had a master plan!

Mr. Fox: [Clicks on his radio...then starts eating his toast in a more animal-like manner] Honey, I'm seven non-fox years old. My father died at seven and a half. I don't want to live in a hole anymore. I'm going to do something about it.